


the blackest night must end in dawn

by windinthetrees



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: F/M, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windinthetrees/pseuds/windinthetrees
Summary: Emily recovers from the sled crash with the help of her family.





	

Ten days since the sled crash and Emily remained largely unconscious, face pale against the bright handmade quilt that had been tucked around her broken body. A myriad of medical machines surrounded her, beeping and humming, reassuring Pierre that she was still alive while he simultaneously wished for peace and quiet. His chair next to Emily’s bed was less than comfortable, but he didn’t want to leave her side when he didn’t have to, even to sit on the more comfortable cot set up for him against the far wall out of the way of the medical equipment. 

Pierre had been reading to her in the lull between lunch and dinner, as he had every day since the accident. Today the book was an Alteran novel, one that had been the next on her retirement reading list before Thread started. But he had lost interest three chapters in and now the book lay forgotten in his lap as he held Emily’s one uninjured hand and gazed out the window at the charred ground surrounding the new Fort Hold.

The destruction of all greenery had been a necessary precaution against Thread, but he couldn’t help but think how much Emily would hate it. After years of being trapped indoors on First Centauri during the war, Emily craved greenery and open space. She had spent hours in the garden of their house at Landing, tending her flowers and vegetables, or simply reading in the midst of the riot of plant life. In the evenings they would set up a table in the middle of the garden and eat a meal of produce and whatever meat the hunters had brought back that day, talking about nothing and everything. It had been idyllic, the perfect retirement in which to recover from old wounds.

A soft knock interrupted Pierre’s reverie and he looked up to see Celine standing in the doorway, six year old Thierry clinging to her skirt and little Megan balanced awkwardly on her hip. Giving Pierre a soft smile of greeting she laid Megan, already half asleep, gently on Pierre’s cot, and set Thierry up in the corner with one of the last of the Pernese coloring books that Mairi Hanrahan had been producing before Thread. The children settled, Celine turned to her father, one hand on her nine months pregnant belly. Pierre gently closed the book in his lap and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, then rose and greeted Celine with a kiss on her cheek.

“How is she?” Celine asked, gazing past Pierre to Emily’s still form.

While Emily had made no presumption to take the place of Celine’s mother, the two of them had developed a strong bond. Celine’s mother, Pierre’s first wife, had died when Celine was ten, and Emily’s two grown children had elected to stay on First Centauri instead of accompany their mother on a one way trip to the edge of known space. They seemed to each fill a void for the other in way Pierre had never dared hope for when he first started courting Emily. As a result, Celine had taken Emily’s injury hard, though she tried not to show it. Pierre thought she wouldn’t have left Emily’s side if she hadn’t had the children and a husband to take care of as well. 

Pierre sighed into her hair as he pulled her into an awkward hug. “She woke for a bit this morning.”

“The caves again?” Celine asked sympathetically.

“Yes.”

The crash had done so much damage. The doctors said that her disorientation would improve as her body recovered, but as the days crept by Pierre had begun to despair. In the rare instances that she woke, Emily seemed to think that she was trapped in the caves on First Centauri during the siege and called him by the names of people half a galaxy away and likely decades dead. He had tried to keep his flagging spirits from Celine, but she too was worried by Emily’s lack of progress.

Celine laid her head on his shoulder, still gazing past him at Emily. They sat there like that for a moment, taking comfort from each other’s presence.

After a while Pierre pulled away and stepped back, studying Celine. Dark circles underlined her eyes, and she was much to gaunt looking for this far along in her pregnancy. “You look tired.”

“I am tired, but that’s normal at this stage. The baby should be here any day now, and then it’ll be only a couple of months before I can sleep the night through” She gave him a sardonic grin. “I’ll be tired for a while yet.”

“Just take care of yourself.” Pierre responded, stepping back to Emily’s bedside. Celine had been his rock these past ten days. Her presence allowed him to keep functioning and keep of the semblance of normalcy for the rest of the hold. He didn’t know what he would do if something took both his women from him. Leaning over, he brushed a strand of hair off of Emily’s face and laid a gentle kiss on her brow. “I should get down to the kitchens to check on dinner.” He said giving Celine a final kiss on the cheek.

“Save me a piece of one of Eliza’s pies.” Celine called after him as Pierre closed the door behind him and headed to the kitchens.

 

***

 

Pierre tried hard to ignore the looks people cast him as he headed for the kitchens, to respond with his normal cheer to those who greeted him, but knew he failed. Despite his best efforts and the efforts of Paul and his staff, the people of Fort knew something had happened to Emily. While the rescue crews had not recognized her, the other passengers had known she was on board, and when she had not appeared afterward, and Pierre had shown up to manage the large kitchens short tempered and looking haggard and worried, they had come to the logical conclusion.

Entering the large outer cavern where the communal kitchens had been housed, Pierre took a moment to survey the space. Large fireplaces had been carved into the inside north wall of the cavern, the vents going up to heat water above or go through tunnels to heat the rest of the cave system in the winter. Between two of the fireplaces was a single door leading to the main corridors of Fort. Opposite, the south side of the cavern opened onto a large yard with stables and livestock pens. Smaller fireplaces on the west wall held pots of drinks and stews while the east wall held the ovens. A door on the west wall led down a flight of stairs into a large storage cavern while to the east another door led into a dining room. Through the middle of the large space were an array of tables, counters and shelves arranged in clusters for the different sections of the kitchen. At this time of day the eastern bakery section was largely deserted with the exception of the Tangeman siblings who were putting the finishing touches on pies for dessert.

In contrast, the west wall was a swarm of activity. In the orange glow of the setting sun people bustled about heating up leftovers from lunch and preparing additional dinner dishes. With Pern being a primarily agriculture community, the meals changed to fit with the needs of the seasons. In the summer months, lunch was the largest meal of the day with dinner being primarily leftovers and other additions that could be served cold. In the winter it switched with dinner being the larger meal to allow the maximum usage of the limited daylight. Now, with the days lengthening into summer, the meals were still in transition. Deserts were still being baked for dinner (though that was mostly because the Tangeman siblings just liked making pies Pierre thought with a grin), but the rest of dinner was mostly lunch leftovers with the addition of a soup and a salad of spring greens.

“Pierre!” Pierre turned his gaze from trying to figure out how Eliza Tangeman had managed to get flour streaked down her back to watch Jalen Leach hurry towards him, a slightly panicked look on his face. “Thank goodness. Phyliss put hot peppers in the stew by mistake and now it’s so hot only Nandita can eat it. I’ve tried everything I know, but without the stew we won’t have enough to feed everyone for dinner.” Pierre took a deep breath, pushing his worries aside for the smells of the kitchen and the immediate concern of making sure people had taste buds left in the morning.

 

***

 

Celine sank down into the chair at Emily’s bedside as soon as her father had left the room. With the baby due any day now she didn’t sleep well. That, coupled with the continual worry over Emily and taking care of two young children, meant she could hardly keep her eyes open during the day. Awkwardly, she laid her head on the edge of Emily’s bed, gripping her hand tightly.

“Oh, Emily.” She murmured. “You’ve got to get better. Papa tries to be strong, and I try to be strong for him, but we both need you. Megan asks for an Emmy story every night before bed, but Thom has to tell them, I just can’t anymore. Please Maman. I miss you.” Celine felt tears begin to slide down her face, rolling across her nose and her eyelid to dampen Emily’s arm.

She almost never called Emily Maman, only a handful of times when they had been alone together. When Pierre had first begun seeing Emily, Celine had been dubious. Her father had had several girlfriends in the years since her mother died, but none of them had lasted more than a few months. And Emily was intimidating, larger than life. She had grown up with the stories of the famous Governor of First Centauri on the news. But Emily in person was quiet and unimposing. That is, unless her authority was needed or she got upset about something. Over the years she had been with Pierre, Emily had come to be a mother to Celine, closer than she had ever been to her biological mother, and a good friend. She had changed diapers, participated in family food fights, and told bedtime stories. She had given Celine advice after disagreements with Thom or when Thierry got into a fight at school.

“Oh please, Maman.” She whispered again, stifling a sob. Thierry must have heard her crying though, for the next thing she knew he had his little arm wrapped around her shoulders. A little sniffle told her he had begun to cry too, and so she sat up and pulled him into her lap, using her apron to wipe first her tears, then his.

“I want Emmy to wake up.” He said in a soft, sad voice. “Why won’t she wake up?” Celine smiled gently, pulling him as close as her belly would allow and placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. They had kept Thierry from Emily in her brief periods of consciousness, barely able to handle her disorientation themselves, much less explain it to a six year old.

“I want her to wake up too, sweetie. The doctors say she’ll wake up when her body is ready, but she was hurt really badly. Even when she does wake up, it will be a while before she can do all the things you used to do with her. OK?” Thierry nodded his head. “She’ll probably be tired a lot and need lots of help.”

“Like you after Megan was born?” Celine managed a wan smile.

“Just like that.”

“But what if Emmy wakes up right when the new baby is born? How can I help both of you at once?” Thierry looked so genuinely troubled by the idea that Celine had to laugh.

“In that case, you’ll just have to share the job with Thom and Pierre and Mathieu and Annalise and Malia and maybe even Megan. Do you think that will work?” Thierry thought about it for a second, nodded solemnly and then buried his face in Celine’s chest with a sniff. Celine sat there, stroking his back until the bell rang announcing dinner.

 

***

 

Eleven days after the sled crash and Pierre was in the kitchens settling a dispute between Jalen Reach and Agueda Lantos, one of the bakers, about meat pies when a commotion started at the inside entrance to the kitchens and worked its way toward the south courtyard where Pierre had moved his mediation efforts. Pierre looked up from the two glowering people in front of him just in time to see Thierry bursting through a group of adults, a cook making an ineffective snatch at the back of his shirt. He had just enough time set his feet before Thierry barreled into him with a cry of “Grandpierre!”

Head still buried in Pierre’s stomach, Thierry began to speak at a rapid pace, “Mamashavingthebabyrightnowandpapaisbusycomequick.” Pierre blinked, taking a second to unravel the garbled message.

“Celine’s having the baby now?”

Thierry released his hug and stepped back, nodding enthusiastically. “She sent me for Brid and then I came to find you.” He stood a little bit taller at his announcement, obviously proud of the responsibility he’d been given. Then he was bouncing again, grabbing Pierre’s hand intent on dragging him from the kitchen. Pierre just managed to pull off his apron and hand it to a bemused cook before Thierry had him out of the kitchens and was pulling him along the corridor.

“Hurry up Grandpierre or we’ll miss it!” Thierry said, giving Pierre’s hand another insistent tug.

“I don’t think we’ll miss it Thierry, these things usually take a while.” Pierre chuckled, following Thierry through the winding stone corridors to the three adjoining rooms Celine shared with her husband and soon to be three children. After having witnessed the births of his own two children and three grandchildren, he was in no way worried that he would miss it, but Thierry had been furious that he had slept through Megan’s birth and was therefore determined to be present as his brother came into the word. He was determined that it must be a brother, despite having been told several times by every member of the family that it could just as easily be another sister.

They were greeted at the door to Celine’s quarters by Celine herself.

“Papa. I take it Thierry fetched you on his own initiative?” Pierre smiled and nodded.

“He’s excited, he didn’t want me to miss anything.”

“Well, I hope you weren’t in the middle of anything important, because I expect it will be a while yet. Brid says I’m only four centimeters.” Celine reached out and grabbed the doorframe, breathing through a contraction. “Thought it seems to be going fairly quickly.”

“Is he here yet?” Thierry asked, coming back from looking around the room.

“It will probably be a couple of hours yet sweetie.” Celine replied with a small smile. “Why don’t you go with Pierre to update Emily and I’ll send Annalise to get you when the baby gets here.” Thierry opened his mouth to protest, but Pierre jumped in, seeing the tightness around Celine’s eyes.

“Come on Thierry, I haven’t seen Emily since lunchtime, and waiting for babies is really pretty boring.” Thierry looked dubious, but followed Pierre out and down the hall to Emily and Pierre’s two rooms. Passing through the living room, Pierre quietly opened the door to the bedroom. Mathieu rose from where he had been sitting next to Emily’s bed and came to the door, pulling it not quite closed behind him after Thierry slipped in.

“How’s Celine?” He asked, glancing through the crack in the door to where Thierry was whispering intently to an unresponsive Emily.

“Still early stages. Though she says this one is going a bit faster than Megan. She’ll send Annalise when the baby gets here. We’re to keep Thierry out from underfoot.” Mathieu grimaced and Pierre smiled at his son’s reaction. “Where are Malia and Megan?”

“Annalise decided Malia was old enough to attend the birth, especially since she wants to be a doctor. And Megan is with the Emmersons for the night.” Pierre nodded. His oldest granddaughter had been following her Aunt’s pregnancy avidly, and Celine had been happy to indulge her curiosity. Less excitable than Thierry, and more mature than her ten years suggested, Pierre had no doubt she would make an excellent doctor. “How’s Emily?”

“The doctors were by earlier to check on her. They say that she is healing as well as can be expected. They decreased the amount of pain medication and sedative too.” Mathieu shrugged, avoiding his father’s eye. Pierre laid a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort and Mathieu hastily wiped his eyes. Mathieu was the quieter of his two children, more similar in personality to Emily herself and had become quite close to her before Thread. They had spent many an afternoon in the garden, quietly reading or discussing politics or philosophy. They had drifted apart a bit with Emily assuming a leadership position after Thread. Emily had less time and Mathieu found Emily’s public face disconcerting. 

“You going to stay a while?” Mathieu shrugged, then nodded and they both returned to Emily’s room. Thierry looked up from his position next to Emily as they came in, but didn’t get up. Stepping up next to the bed, Pierre scooped Thierry up and put him in his lap as he sat down on the bedside chair. Mathieu took a seat on Pierre’s cot against the wall.

“I told her all about how Celly is about to have the baby.” Thierry reported seriously.

“That’s good Thierry, I’m sure she is very glad to know that.” They sat like that in silence for a while. Eventually, Thierry fell asleep in Pierre’s lap. Mathieu helped Pierre settle him in Pierre’s cot, and then went down to the kitchens to get them all food. Sometime after dark, several hours later, there was a light knock on the door and Annalise stuck her head in. Thierry shot up on the cot before Annalise even got her mouth open.

“Is he here?” He asked excitedly, then glanced nervously at Emily afraid he might have disturbed her. Annalise gave all of them a tired smile.

“She is here. Want to come meet her?” Thierry nodded vigorously. “I’ll stay with Emily.” Annalise said when Pierre hesitated. He nodded gratefully and they all trouped down the hall and into Celine’s bedroom. Celine looked tired, her hair plastered to her face with sweat, but her color was good. She sat up in bed, Thom seated beside her, a swaddled bundle tucked against her belly.

“Come and meet her.” Celine beckoned with her free hand when Thierry paused in the doorway. Tiptoeing, Thierry crossed to the bed, carefully climbing up into his Father’s lap to peer at the little bundle. “I’d like you to meet Emeline.” Celine looked at Pierre as she said the name, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. “Would you like to hold her Papa?” Nodding wordlessly, Pierre walked to the bed and sat on the side opposite Thom and Thierry. Celine gently passed Emeline over and Pierre stared down into her wrinkled red face. Dark curls peeked out from under the yellow knit cap that covered her still cone shaped head, and as he watched she yawned and blinked before settling back into her blankets.

“She’s beautiful Celine.” He murmured, stroking one finger down the side of her face.

“Can I hold her?” Thierry demanded, interrupting the moment, and Pierre chuckled. Celine nodded and he carefully transferred Emeline across Celine into Thierry and Thom’s arms. Standing, Pierre leaned over and kissed Celine’s forehead.

“I’d best get back to Emily. Annalise is with her now, but I sure she would like to get to bed.” A chorus of ‘good night’ followed him from the room.

After saying goodnight to Annalise, Pierre closed the door and went to sit next to Emily. Taking her good hand he laid his head next to hers and gently kissed her cheek. Running his other hand through her hair he let his tears flow.

 

  
***

 

Pierre woke in the morning to a soft knocking at the hall door, a crick in his neck, and midmorning sun streaming in through the window. Sitting up, he immediately checked on Emily. She lay as she had for the previous eleven days, quilt tucked up to her chest, arms - the right wrist encased in a cast - laying on top of the blanket. The monitors beeped out the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and her chest rose and fell with each steady breath.

It had been a rough night, with Emily waking in the early hours confused and scared, worrying about food supplies and fresh water for her people. Pierre had comforted her and soothed her, but she had not known who he was. Rubbing his face to try and wipe away some of his fatigue along with the grit in his eyes, Pierre rose and made his way slowly out through the living room and to the hall door.

“Pierre.” Paul Benden stood at the door, shoulders hunched and face creased with strain. Pierre stepped back from the door and silently motioned him to enter. Neither of them said anything until the door to the hall had been closed.

“How is she?” Paul Benden had been as affect by Emily’s injury as Pierre, but Pierre though, had had to go on pretending everything was OK even more than Pierre. Where Pierre could spend most of his time at Emily’s side and cede most of the running of the kitchens to others with the excuse of Celine’s new baby, Paul had to go on governing with only occasional visits and without the help of his co-leader. The strain was visible in the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders and the nervous worrying of his prosthetic fingers.

“Last night was rough.” Pierre said, leading the way through the sitting room to the bedroom. “She kept wanting to know where Sarah and Aiden were.” After not knowing who he was, Emily distressed and asking after her children was the most difficult part of her delirium for Pierre. He knew the panic she felt, could see it on her face, and all he could do was be a stranger holding her hand a reassuring her that they were safe.

“Will you be staying long?” Pierre asked, once Paul was situated in the chair at Emily’s side. At Paul’s nod Pierre scratched his head and smiled ruefully. “Good, because I could really use a shower.”

“Go get a shower and some food. Check on your daughter and new grandbaby.” Paul said, not taking his eyes off of Emily. “I have an hour until my next meeting, I’ll sit with her until then.”

“Thanks Paul.”

 

***

 

When Pierre returned, freshly washed and with a tray of food from the kitchen, Paul was sitting hunched over at Emily’s side, apparently unmoved from when he’d left. Setting the tray of food on the small table next to Emily’s bed, Pierre grabbed a second chair from the sitting room and set it across from Paul and next to the table. Wrapping a pastry from the tray in a cloth napkin, he handed it across to Paul.

“Somehow I doubt you’ve eaten either, and Eliza’s new tarts are not to be missed.”

“Thanks.” Paul accepted the pastry with a wan smile. They ate in companionable silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

“Wind Blossom’s making trouble, insisting on speaking with Emily.” Paul said after a while. “I’ve been putting her off, but I’m afraid she might come storming up here insisting on seeing Emily. I didn’t want it to take you by surprise if she does.” Pierre nodded with a grimace. He had heard many a rant from Emily on dealing with Wind Blossom and he did not relish the idea of having to deal with her himself. Neatly folding the napkin that had contained his pastry, Paul stood.

“I’d best be going.” Paul said, laying the napkin back on the tray. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“Of course. Give my best to Ju.”

Paul left, closing the door behind him, and Pierre leaned back in his chair. They had decided to keep Emily’s condition a secret, not wanting either the flood of visitors and sympathy nor the decreased moral that public knowledge of her condition would rouse. But after nearly two weeks it was getting harder and harder to put people off. The initial decision had been made before they were aware how serious her condition was and how long the recovery would be. As things stood it would have to come out before she was fully recovered, but Pierre had hoped they could wait until Emily herself could be a part of the decision. Not only because it would be her personal information that would be publicized, but because she had a knack for presenting things to the public that both he and Paul lacked. But that could be dealt with later. There was still hope that Emily would recover enough to help. For now the next week’s menus needed to be planned; if it were left to Jalen and Eliza they would be eating meat pies and redroot stew every meal.

Getting up and gathering his writing materials to the desk next to Emily’s bed, Pierre set to work on organizing supply lists, work schedules and menus for the next couple of weeks.

 

***

 

“Pierre.” The word was so soft that at first Pierre thought he had imagined it, engrossed as he was in his work, but then it came again. “Pierre.” Pierre leapt to his feet, taking the one step over to Emily’s side. Her brows were creased with pain, but her eyes were open and tracked his face as he bent over her. Feebly she tried to lift her right hand to touch him, but the weight of the cast was too much for her, and he reached out and grabbed her good left hand instead.

“Emily,” he breathed. He felt tears slip down his cheeks at the same time that a huge grin split his face.

“Pierre, what,” she was interrupted by a dry cough, crying out with pain as it put strain on her broken ribs.

“Shhh, Emily. You were injured in a sled crash. You’ve got to rest. Do you need anything?” He said when she had stopped coughing, reaching up to brush her hair back off her face.

“Water?” She whispered. Pierre nodded, and fetched his bottle of water from the table, tilting it carefully into her mouth. She swallowed a couple of times and then turned her head away. Setting the water back on the table, Pierre pulled the chair close to Emily’s bedside and took her hand again, stroking small circles on her palm with his thumb.

“How long?” She whispered, rolling her head on the pillow to look a Pierre.

“Twelve days. We’ve kept things quiet, told people you were busy. Ezra has been taking care of things.”

“Good. Tired.” Emily closed her eyes, and was asleep. Pierre breathed out in relief. For the first time in twelve days she had woken up and known where she was, known him. He felt an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders. He wasn’t naïve enough to think the rest of her recovery would be easy, for either of them. There was a good possibility that she would never fully recover from such severe injuries. But as long as Emily was with him in mind, and not just body, he could make it through.

 

***

 

That evening Annalise, Mathieu and Malia brought dinner up and they had a quiet family meal with Celine and her family in Pierre’s living room. Emily had woken briefly once more that afternoon and had remembered their earlier conversation. Pierre had given her a button to press that would alert him if she needed anything, so he could join the dinner without worry.

“Did Emmy really wake up?” Thierry asked, for the fifth time that evening.

“She really woke up. Twice in fact.” Pierre responded, knowing his grin was a bit on the goofy side.

“Will she wake up again so I can talk to her?”

“She might, but she’s really tired, so even if she does she won’t be able to talk very long.” Thierry nodded seriously. He knew about adults being really tired.

“But how will we know if she wakes up, if no one is sitting with her?”

“She has a button.” Pierre said, pulling the signaler from his pocket. “And when she presses the button this will make noise and vibrate to let me know she’s awake.” He set the signaler in the middle of the table where everyone could see it.

“Oh, okay.” And Thierry set himself in front of the signaler and stared at it intently. Pierre shared an amused glance with Thom over Thierry’s head while Malia pretended she wasn’t also watching the signaler avidly. Despite how busy Emily had been in the almost year and a half since Thread started falling, her adopted grandchildren were quite attached to her. To fill her absence at family gatherings, the adults had started to tell ‘Emmy’ stories about things that she had (or on occasion couldn’t possibly have) done. While many of the stories were largely based on news reports the adults remembered from the war, making them all the more fantastical to children born on Pern, they also included more mundane stories since landing. Thus, in her absence, she had been built up to mythical proportions, especially to the younger children (Malia still remembered when she and Emily had tried to bake together, a story which generally discouraged any myth).

However, the signaler remained silent throughout the meal and for an hour afterwards. It’s buzzing interrupted an intense game of go fish which the family had settled into after the meal. Thierry jumped out of his chair, intent on going to Emily’s room until Thom grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

“Slow down kiddo. Let Pierre go see if she is feeling up to company first.” Thom told his indignant son. Pierre rose from his seat and crossed to the bedroom door, opening it just enough to get through and closing it behind him. He hurried forward when he saw Emily struggling to push herself up in bed on her good arm.

“Pierre, help me sit up please.” She asked weakly.

“Are you sure Emily?” She gave him an exasperated look and he grinned.

“I want to meet the baby.” At his surprised look she gave him a wan smile. “I heard it crying.”

“Of course.” Gathering all the pillows and blankets he could find in the room, he brought them over to Emily’s bedside. As gently as he could he lifted her shoulders with one arm and placed the pillows and blankets behind her back with the other. By the time he finished she was breathing in short gasps and her eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Pierre cursed under his breath, wishing he’d waited to check with the doctors that it was okay before sitting her up.

“Do you want me to get the doctor?” He asked, looking anxiously at the monitors.

“No,” Emily whispered with a slight shake of her head. “Just give me a minute.” She lay there for a while, eyes closed, slowing her breathing. Pierre had just begun to think she had fallen back asleep when she opened her eyes again. He watched as she composed her face and then gave him a slight nod. Going to the door he opened it to find Thierry, Megan and Melia gathered anxiously outside.

“She wants to see you all. And to meet the baby.” He smiled at Celine who was still seated at the table with Emeline in her arms. Celine rose with Emeline and Thom came forward to pick up Megan. Mathieu and Annalise stayed seated, the room would be crowded enough with Celine, Thom and the kids. Pierre stepped back from the door and the group filed in. As soon as Thierry saw Emily awake and watching them he shot forward.

“Emmy!”

Pierre managed to grab Thierry just as he climbed onto the bed. Even so, Emily winced in pain as his weight on the mattress jostled her sore body.

“Careful Thierry.” Pierre said, picking the boy up and moving around the foot of the bed to the chair on the far side. “Remember, we talked about how you would need to be really careful around Emily when she woke up.” He murmured, close to Thierry’s ear. Thierry nodded.

“Sorry Emmy, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t Thierry.” Emily whispered. Celine took the seat opposite Pierre and held out the baby so that Emily could see her.

“Emily, I would like you to meet your newest granddaughter, Emeline.” Emily looked up at Celine, shocked.

“Emeline?” She asked, her voice shaking. Celine nodded, tears in her eyes.

“Emeline Yvette Boll Fabre. May she be as strong as her namesake.” Emily reached a trembling hand out and touched Emeline’s face.

“She’s beautiful Celine.”

“And now I think I’d better get all these younglings to bed. It is wonderful to see you awake Emily.” Celine turned hurriedly and left the room, leaving Thom to gather the kids. One by one Megan, Melia, Thierry and Thom kissed Emily’s cheek and left.

“Is Celine okay?” Emily asked once the hall door had thudded shut and she was alone with Pierre. Pierre got up and moved to Emily’s left side, taking her good hand in his.

“She was just worried about you. We all were.”

“I’m sorry.” Emily murmured, even as Pierre shook his head. Seeing his negative she went on. “I know it’s not my fault, but it’s damn inconvenient.” At that Pierre had to laugh. Just like Emily to term nearly being killed as merely inconvenient. “Tomorrow I will need to talk to Paul.” When Pierre opened his mouth to protest Emily raised her hand. “I am up to a short conversation, and Paul undoubtedly needs it. I need it too if I you want me to rest.” Pierre nodded.

“He’s been visiting most mornings, would you like me to arrange something or…”

“Wake me up when he comes if I’m asleep.” Emily said with as much conviction as her tired voice could manage. Pierre nodded reluctantly, but he knew if he didn’t promise to wake her she would try to keep herself awake so as not to miss Paul.

“Which means now you need to rest.” Emily nodded, her eyes drooping just at the suggestion. Carefully Pierre removed the pillows propping her up and this time she did fall asleep after he resettled her.

 

***

 

Paul knocked on Pierre and Emily’s door shortly before lunch and was surprised to see Pierre open the door. Normally Pierre would be managing the organized chaos of the kitchens at lunch this time of day, even since Emily’s injury. Not only did Pierre open the door, but he was smiling more genuinely that Paul had seen in months, much less in the past two weeks.

“Paul, come in. Emily wants to see you.”

“Emily wants to see me?” Paul said somewhat dumbly. “You mean she…” Pierre nodded, his grin even wider. Paul followed Pierre through the living room and into the bedroom, hope blooming in his gut.

Emily was sitting up in a wheeled support chair positioned next to the window. A colorful lap quilt covered her legs and she wore a lightweight dressing gown. Her face was gaunt and pale, creased with pain, but she was the most beautiful site Paul had seen in weeks.

“Oh, Emily.” He breathed, stepping forward to kneel next to Emily’s chair. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

“It’s good to see you too, Paul.” Emily said, voice tired. “Now, tell me what has been going on while I’ve slept away the past two weeks.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Paul asked, glancing at Pierre. Emily rolled her eyes.

“My husband is not my keeper and I would not have asked if I were not up to it. You know it will be worse for me not knowing what is going on Paul.” Paul grimaced. He was so used to dealing with soldiers and pilots that pushed themselves to their detriment, and he had been so worried about Emily, that it was easy to forget that Emily was actually sensible. If she said she could handle it, she could. It was one of the things that made working with her so easy and so extraordinary. He knew he could trust her absolutely, when they spoke in private, to tell him exactly what she thought and what her capabilities were.

“Sorry Emily. You know I am not nearly as sensible as you are.” Paul mollified. “And my wife is most definitely my keeper.” He added with a grin. Turning serious again he asked, “Do you want the bad news or the slightly better news first?”

“Lets get the bad over with.” Paul nodded grabbed a chair from next to the empty bed, turning it backwards and straddling it, resting his arms across the back. Rubbing his prosthetic fingers, he considered what Emily needed to know.

“We don’t have enough power packs to fly fall here tomorrow. We’ve cleared all the greenery around Fort and gotten everything stored in the caves. We should finish installing metal shutters on all the windows sometime this afternoon. We’ll ride out thread snug as a bug in a stone fortress.” Paul let his frustration color his voice. Emily knew how hard it would be for him, a former fighter pilot, to sit and do nothing while thread fell. “Until the dragons are fully functional we have no other choice, and I don’t dare push them any more after what happened to Galliani and Duluth.” Emily nodded, sadness clouding her eyes. The dragons and their riders were in a difficult position, desperately needed, but not ready and with no guidance on how to prepare. Sighing Paul went on with his litany of bad news.

“Jim’s fleet got caught in a storm two days back, lost a lot of cargo.” Emily’s eyes widened in alarm and Paul held up his hand to reassure her. “No lives lost, just broken bones and a few cardiovascular events from the stress. We’ve evacuated the worst injured by sled and everyone should recover fully. They’ve already refloated half the fleet and retrieved a good portion of the cargo thanks to the dolphins.” Emily leaned back into the padded headrest of her chair, her eyes closed in relief.

“The slightly better news is that Wind Blossom has locked herself in her rooms until she gets an interview with you, so we have been able to reassign her personnel.” As Paul had hoped Emily huffed out a laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. “And that’s all the news.” Paul paused, drinking in the site of her. “Inquiries for you are being routed to Ezra. We’ve been telling everyone you’re busy, but I’m not sure how much longer we can keep doing that. People know something’s going on.” He left unsaid that it would be her decision how much to reveal and when. They sat in silence for a while before he stood. “I have got get to a meeting. Let me know if there is anything you need. And, if you’re up to it, I think Pol and Bay would like to visit.” Giving Emily’s hand a squeeze, Paul turned and left the room quickly.

Paul closed the hall door to Pierre and Emily’s rooms and leaned back against it briefly, collecting himself. He hadn’t expected to actually be able to talk to Emily this morning, and as much of a relief as it was that she was finally starting to recover, it left him feeling discombobulated and off balance. Taking another deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall, straightening his shoulders and putting on his public face. He could talk to Emily now, and no matter what else happened, that made things infinitely better.

 

***

 

Pierre seated himself in the chair Paul had vacated and took Emily’s hand.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Tired.” Emily sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.

“Do you think you could eat something before you sleep away the rest of the day?” Pierre teased lightly, and got a wan grin in response.

“Your cooking? Always.” She replied, not opening her eyes.

“Good, since I stole the ingredients for a soup from the kitchens last night. And some of the Tangeman’s bread from the first baking this morning.” He went out to the sitting room and served out two bowls of soup from the pot on the cooking unit and sliced off three slices from the loaf on the table. Back in the bedroom he settled a tray over Emily’s lap and set her bowl, a spoon, and one slice of bread on it. Emily picked up the spoon with her left hand dubiously.

“I’m going to make a mess Pierre.” Pierre grinned and grabbed a towel from the closet, tying it around Emily’s neck with a kiss to her cheek.

“Go right ahead. Have I ever told you about the time Mathieu broke his arm when he was nine?” He asked, settling in the chair next to her with his own bowl of soup. Emily shook her head minutely, focused on bringing the spoon to her mouth left-handed. She successfully got a spoonful of soup to her mouth with only minor spillage and grinned at the small triumph.

“No, I don’t think you’ve told me that story.”

“When Mathieu was nine we were spending the summer at my grandparents farm in the north of France on Earth. Mathieu had been learning to ride horses, but he got frustrated with the slow pace of the lessons. So one night he snuck out of the house to the stables and decided to go for a moonlit gallop through the forest. Needless to say a stray branch caught him and knocked him straight off his horse not a hundred yards into his gallop and broke his arm. His left arm, and as you know he is left handed. For lunch the next day we had curry with naan. Mathieu was covered head to toe in curry. He even got it in his hair. Needless to say we made sure to serve meals using forks until he got the cast off.”

Emily smiled at the story, imagining a young Mathieu covered head to foot in curry. Setting her spoon down she sighed.

“It is fabulous as always Pierre, but I can’t eat any more. Help me to bed?” Pierre nodded, setting aside his own half finished bowl. Maneuvering Emily’s chair next to the side of her bed he set the brakes then came around to the front. Unsecured crates on the sled had slammed into Emily’s right side in the crash breaking her arm, several ribs, all three long bones in her leg and fracturing her pelvis, while her left side was largely unscathed. Wrapping his arm around Emily’s chest, making sure to stay away from the broken ribs, Pierre helped support her as she stood on her left leg and made the awkward transfer from chair to bed. Once in the bed she lay back on her pillow breathing hard from pain and even that minimal exertion.

“If Pol and Bay want to visit, I wouldn’t mind.” She murmured, already half asleep as Pierre pulled the blanket over her and kissed her forehead. Making sure the call button was within Emily’s reach Pierre closed the curtains on the windows and shut the door to the bedroom quietly behind him.

 

***

 

Emily awoke to the grey light of evening seeping through the cracks in the curtains. Soft voices emanated from the sitting room, though she couldn’t make out the identities of the speakers. Taking stock of her body she noted that the pain and tiredness was less than that morning, as it had been less that morning than the day before. With each awakening she felt better, though she was under no illusions that the trend would continue.

Pierre had left the support chair next to the bed, and she looked at it contemplating whether she could get into it herself or if she needed to call Pierre. If she had trouble and Pierre found her he would make sure she would have to call him in the future. Her future mobility would be best preserved if she waited until she was sure she could succeed on her own. It was mere seconds from when she pressed the call button to Pierre opening the door.

“Who’s visiting?” She asked as he closed the door behind him.

“I told Pol and Bay you might be awake if they stopped by this evening. We were just getting ready to have some supper if you feel up to it.” Emily nodded and Pierre helped her into her chair, tucked the blanket around her legs and wheeled her to the sitting room.

“Emily!” Bay rose as soon as Emily entered the room, stepping forward and embracing her gently.

“It’s good to see you Governor.” Pol said more formally from where he stood behind Bay.

“How are you both?” Emily asked, and wished her voice didn’t sound so weak. She could see Pol and Bay react to it, the slight drawing in of their eyebrows and concern in their eyes. Then the moment passed as they launched into their work and all they had been able to accomplish since Wind Blossom’s personnel had been reassigned. Emily smiled and nodded at appropriate moments and focused on getting her food into her mouth without spilling any as they talked about the progress of the grubs and the failure of the latest clutch of dragons. Pierre too stayed silent, and Emily could tell he was watching her closely, making sure she did not get too tired.

At the end of the meal Bay put down her fork and looked squarely at Emily. “How are you Emily, really?” Emily felt Pierre catch her good hand under the table and give it a squeeze. The doctors had come by that morning and they had discussed her condition and prognosis at length. At the best it would be a long recovery. At worst she would always be weak on her right side and would never be able to walk without assistance again. But Emily had no intention of sharing the details with Bay and Pol.

“I’m tired and sore. And I will be for a while.” Emily tried to put as much strength in her voice as she could, drawing strength from Pierre’s grip on her hand. “But I’m doing better.” She tried to smile reassuringly, though wasn’t sure she managed. Bay didn’t call her on it though, just smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re doing better. And now we should probably head out.” Bay and Pol rose, and Pierre pulled her chair back from the table so that she could say goodbye.

As soon as they were out of the door Emily drooped with exhaustion. Pierre knelt by her chair, alarmed. “Em?”

“I’m fine Pierre.” Emily whispered. “Just tired. That was a little longer than I would have liked. Help me to bed?” Pierre stood and rolled her into the bedroom and helped her into bed. She grabbed his hand before he could turn away. “Tomorrow just family. And Paul.” She whispered. “And do you think we could convince the doctors to let us have a real bed now?” At that Pierre smiled and squeezed her hand. She had not been amused at the constant shifting of the mattress that helped prevent pressure sores.

“I’ll work on it.” And then Emily was asleep.

 

***

 

Celine paused outside Pierre and Emily’s door, stealing herself. Her father had come by that morning, asked if she could sit with Emily while he was working on lunch. As much as Emily unconscious or delirious had bothered her, somehow Emily awake but so weak she could barely raise her arm had disturbed her more. She wondered if somehow Pierre had figured that out and was forcing the issue, but quickly shook that thought away. Emily still wasn’t strong enough to stay completely on her own and Pierre had work to do. Phyliss had put too much black pepper in dinner the day before and it had barely been edible. Plus, thread was supposed to fall today and everyone would be on edge, tempers short.

Opening the door Celine was shocked to see Emily sitting in a wheeled support chair in the living room reading a book. She still looked gaunt and tired, but so much more herself than she had looked even two days before.

“Maman.” She said, stepping forward and drawing a chair up beside her stepmother. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pierre look at her sharply and realized he had never heard her call Emily that before.

“Celine.” Emily carefully marked her place and set the book on the table beside her, turning her full attention to Celine. “And Emeline.”

“I’m off.” Pierre interrupted quickly, stealing a kiss from Emily and pecking Celine and Emeline on the cheeks before disappearing out the door.

“May I hold her?” Emily asked. “I think if you put her in my lap I’m strong enough.” Celine nodded mutely and gently settled Emeline into the crook of Emily’s good left arm.

“How are you holding up Celine?” Emily asked, keeping her eyes on Emeline’s sleeping face. Celine looked at her hands, debating what to say. Emily didn’t need her burdens now, had enough of her own. At the same time, she desperately needed the comfort of being able to talk out her problems with Emily, especially after two weeks of wondering whether she would ever be able to talk to her again.

“About as well as can be expected I guess.” Celine said finally. “I’m tired of course, Mairi Hanrahan has started up a school again just yesterday, that’s where Thierry and Megan are, so it’s just me and Emeline during the day.” Looking up she waited until Emily met her eyes. “I thought we might have lost you forever.” She said, her voice cracking in the middle of the sentence. Emily opened her mouth but Celine kept going. “You would wake up and not know us. You’d get so upset it would take me and Papa both to keep you from trying to get out of bed. And then you woke up, and you knew us. But you were so weak.” Celine sniffed and reached out to take Emeline back as she started to fuss, expertly unbuttoning her blouse and putting Emeline to her breast.

Emily watched her namesake suck for a bit before speaking. “I’m sorry you had to go through that Celine.” She said finally, putting her hand on Celine’s shoulder.

Celine just shook her head. “It’s not your fault, I don’t know why I said all that, you don’t need that burden right now, I just, I missed talking to you.” Emily managed a wry grin.

“Considering the doctors are saying it’ll be two more weeks until they’ll take the casts off and even let me try to walk, I think you’ll get all the talking to me you can stand in the near future.”

“You’ll go stir crazy!” Celine grinned, then sobered. “Have you decided what you’ll tell people? I can’t see you staying cooped up here until you recover.”

Emily sighed, deciding to answer Celine’s unasked question first. “And that is if I fully recover. There is a good chance, the doctors say, that given my age, the medical equipment available, and the severity of my injuries that I’ll always have some problems with my right leg.” Emily shook her head. “I understand why Paul and Pierre decided to keep my condition a secret, and I agree with the reasoning. But I do wish I could have stayed unconscious through the initial fuss. I’ll wait until I’m stronger, I still can’t stay up for more than an hour or two at a time, probably until the casts come off, and then arrange a ‘chance’ meeting with select people.”

“A chance meeting?” Celine raised her eyebrows and Emily grinned in response. “I’ll just happen to be having a meeting with Paul when said select people arrive for their own meeting with Paul. Or Pierre will have someone come meet him here for something and I will be here. Or you’ll have someone drop Thierry and Megan here after school. Though with Thierry and Megan in school it is likely that some word will get out earlier.”

Celine grinned at that as she re-buttoned her blouse and burped Emeline on her shoulder. “I’m not so sure. Thierry knows to keep family business, especially family business involving you, quiet. And most people don’t know you are related. Megan is young enough that people won’t likely pay attention to anything she says.” Emily nodded and then yawned.

“I’ve only been up two hours, and already I feel as though I’ve just worked for sixteen hours. Help me to bed?” Celine nodded, first going into the bedroom and settling Emeline in a crib that Pierre had made out of an old crate and then coming back to get Emily. Pushing the chair to the side of the bed, Celine followed Emily’s instructions for how to set the brake and help her transfer to the bed. Alarmed at how drawn and shaky Emily looked as she settled onto the bed, Celine reached for the button to call her father, but Emily intercepted her. “I’m just tired Celine, there’s nothing wrong.” Seeing the worry still on Celine’s face, Emily reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’ll be fine, Celly, I just need time. You should take a nap too, while Emeline’s sleeping.” Celine nodded, though the lines on her face didn’t ease. “I love you Maman,” she said, leaning over to kiss Emily’s cheek. “I love you too Celly,” Emily whispered back, closing her eyes. Celine stayed and watched until she was sure that Emily slept peacefully before settling down on the cot and falling asleep herself.

 

***

 

Emily was sorely temped to have Pierre wheel her down to the Great Hall to join in the celebrations of the dragons successfully fighting thread, though she knew she wasn’t ready. Instead Pierre brought up plates of the best of the food and the entire family gathered in their sitting room to have their own celebration. After dinner everyone sat nibbling pastries and Mathieu pulled out his guitar and began to play softly in the background. The children settled on the floor, playing some game involving a set of wooden blocks two dolls and two sticks tied together in a cross with a piece of twine. After some observation Emily decided the sticks were supposed to be a dragon that was protecting the block fort from a couple of scraps of string Thread. Pierre settled down in the seat next to her and gripped her hand.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they,” Emily whispered, a quiet contentment settling over her.

“Yes. Yes they are,” Pierre said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> My new years resolution has been to actually finish and post some of my stories. So here this one is. 
> 
> Title from one of the poems in Dragonflight


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